


With Flaming Sword and Divine Wrath

by Dragestil



Category: The Yogscast
Genre: Gen, Platonic Soulmates, Urban Magic Yogs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-28
Updated: 2014-12-28
Packaged: 2018-03-03 22:07:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2889656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragestil/pseuds/Dragestil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They say that the touch of Heaven is incorruptible and immutable, that once you've been touched only Heaven can remove the mark. Perhaps that explains the appearance of a certain fallen angel one unfortunate evening between Christmas and the new year.</p>
            </blockquote>





	With Flaming Sword and Divine Wrath

**Author's Note:**

> For more information on fallen angel!Tom, read [A Fear of the Divine.](http://stiff4smith.tumblr.com/post/105741175571/a-fear-of-the-divine) For more platonic love between Tom and Sam, read [Not Always Romantic](http://stiff4smith.tumblr.com/post/105835604006/not-always-romantic) and [Missing.](http://stiff4smith.tumblr.com/post/105932379966/missing)

Xephos rushes into the coffee shop and to the counter, grabbing the nearest Sir (who happens to be Ross) by the shirt.

"You’re going to be getting visitors tonight," the oracle says, blind eyes wide but voice soft.

"Tom’s coming round?"

"Well yes, but before that trouble is coming."

"Trouble?" Smiff says, slipping behind Ross and leaning over his shoulder. "That’s our business. Who would bring trouble into our place that isn’t us?"

"Sam’s creators."

The gargoyle and the kelpie exchange a glance. Early on there had been discussions about what to do with Sam. They all had known that he could be a liability, that eventually he would be missed. Of course, they had also decided that he was family, or as much family as any of them could claim to have. Smith nods once firmly.

"You said Tom’s coming, right?" Xephos nods. "And you’ve not told either of them yet?"

"I don’t intend to tell either at all. Sam shouldn’t have to spend all day worrying, and I will not have Tom causing an incident if it turns out they don’t want what I expect."

"We’ll play defense, then. Smith’s good at distraction, aren’t you?" Ross says, smiling mischievously at his last phrase as his tail wraps around the kelpie’s waist.

"I can certainly keep you busy for hours."

"Boys," Xephos interjects with a thoroughly unimpressed sigh. "You’ll have plenty of time for  _that_  after this is all handled. Make sure you tell Trott as well. Unbelievably, this might be the only situation where three times the trouble is best.”

"I’ll remember that," Smith says with a laugh.

"I’d prefer you didn’t."

"Oh I know, Xeph, I know."

"In any case, one of you will need to call Tom when they show up. And whatever you do, keep them _away_  from the boy.”

——

It’s been an uneventful but good day at the shop. The customers are still riding off their holiday highs, and the Sirs keep the atmosphere light. Sam’s been tasked with providing music and preparing for a karaoke-athon. He doesn’t even notice when a handful of decidedly out of place men stride into the coffee shop. One spots the android, but doesn’t have time to make a move before being intercepted by a winsomely grinning Smiffy.

"We’ve not seen you around here before," he says, lightly tossing an arm around the nearest man’s shoulders. "You new in town?"

"Are you the owner of this establishment?"

"One of. You investors? Hey, Trott, we’ve got investors!" he calls as he steers the group over to the counter and away from the stage area.

"We’re not-"

"Not investors?" Trott interjects, sidling up beside Smith. "Inspectors then? We’re used to Tom coming around. Is he ill?"

Ross catches the hint from where he stands making coffee. After he hands the steaming cup to a patron, he pulls out his phone.

"If you would just let us speak," the one Smiffy captured says, finally freeing himself of the kelpie’s arm, "we’re here to collect our property."

"Property?"

"You’re harbouring stolen goods. That android over there belongs to us, and it’s time for it to be returned home."

"You catch that?" Ross murmurs into the phone as he turns his back from the visitors.

"Keep them busy until I can get there, and I’ll conveniently forget to drop in unexpectedly for a month," Tom says on the other end.

"It’s a deal," the gargoyle answers before tucking his phone away and moving over to join his partners. "Everyone seems a little tense. How about I make you all some coffee? On the house?"

"We’re not here for pleasantries."

"Boys, boys, please," Trott says, gently clapping the nearest two on the shoulders. "We have a business to run here, as I’m sure you understand, and it wouldn’t look right if you just left without even having a drink. So why don’t we go have a nice sit down at a table and then we can get to  _your_  business, alright?”

It’s impossible to argue against Trott when he doesn’t want you to. Smith says he must be part siren for all the charm he’s got. It’s a blessing, though, because the businessmen can’t say no to the offer. They all follow like ducklings as they are brought to a table in the front corner of the shop, far from where Sam continues his work unaware of the brewing trouble. Ross arrives with a tray of full cups just as they all take their seats.

"You keep an eye on things, alright, Ross?" Smith says, gesturing toward the counter but glancing furtively at the door.

"Don’t worry, mate. I’m a professional watcher."

The other two laugh as the gargoyle wanders back to his usual job. Then they become suddenly serious. Trott catches Smith’s eyes and receives a curt nod.

"So what’s this about you taking our audio tech?" Trott says, hands folded neatly on the table.

"It’s an android designed for a now defunct programme. It should’ve been decommissioned ages ago."

"Decommissioned, you say? That doesn’t seem like something he’d be all that interested in, mates," Smith replies.

"It’s not as if-" the de facto leader of the retrieval team begins before being interrupted by the deafening silence of the coffee shop.

The door opens with a friendly chime that attracts everyone’s gaze. The Sirs can only grin at the sight. Tom strides in, absolutely radiating authority - and not in the least because of the literally flaming sword he has casually resting on his shoulder. He’s exchanged his usual attire for a form-fitting charcoal suit with a crisp, white undershirt that’s not been fully buttoned. His wings reappear once he is through the doorway, and add significantly to his immense presence.

"Sam," he says, ignoring everyone to lock eyes with the technomancer who had only just looked up from his work. "Are you happy here?"

"Yes."

"Do you want to go back to the factory?"

"No."

"Can you survive without the input, interference, or aid of these  _humans_?” the angel continues, finally scorching the businessmen with his dark stare.

"Of course!" Sam answers as he catches sight of what has brought Tom. The speakers he had been adjusting screech with a sudden rush of audio feedback before he reigns in his fear. "I don’t want to go. They left me first!"

Tom hums and nods.

"You’ve heard the boy. He’s not going."

"It’s an  _android_ , for God’s sake!” one of the team shouts.

Tom swings his sword from its resting place and points it directly at the table.

"His name is Sam, and I am his guardian. If you threaten him, you threaten me," Tom growls, "and let me be perfectly clear: I do  _not_ tolerate threats. I fell already. You cannot do any worse.”

The entire coffee shop revolves around the exchange. Sam gravitates toward the fallen angel, hovering behind him like a child behind their parent. The Sirs stand alert, Smith and Trott on either side of the table and Ross behind the counter. The businessmen exchange terrified looks. This had certainly not been in the “possible scenarios” section of the briefing for this retrieval. No one ever told them anything about divine wrath raining down upon them.

"Need I prove my point further, or will you be taking your leave  _without_  Sam?”

"We’ll just, uh, see ourselves to the, um, exit, if you please," the leader mumbles, unable to meet Tom’s dangerous gaze.

The others all nod their agreement as they sidle out from the table. Tom watches them all, stumbling backward toward the door but unwilling to risk looking away. They might not know much of angels, but it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to know you don’t turn your back on  _anyone_  with a flaming sword. The minute they turn and bolt out into the street, though, the sword and Tom’s wings fade away. He turns to Sam who buries his face in the angel’s chest and wraps his arms around the taller man.

"I’ve got you," Tom whispers, gently running his fingers through Sam’s hair. "You don’t ever have to go anywhere you don’t want to, now, okay? I will protect you. That’s what guardians do."

The coffee shop slowly returns to life, conversations reappearing in the wake of Tom’s rage. The atmosphere is much more subdued than normal, but everyone finds themselves smiling at a warmth they can’t quite place. Tom keeps his arm around Sam’s shoulders when the android finally has calmed enough to pull out of the hug. Neither seems entirely sure of where to go from here. Finally the angel looks to the Sirs, who are talking in low tones behind the counter.

"I’m going to take Sam home, if you don’t mind. I think he’s in need of a movie night."

"Horror ones?" Sam asks, glancing up with a hopeful smile.

"Horror ones," Tom agrees with a lopsided grin.


End file.
